Текст книги "HATE Sex"

Автор книги: Billy Storm

Соавторы: Sidda Lee Rain
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HATE SEX

by Billy Storm

Cover design by Sidda Lee Rain and Janet Edwards

Copyright 2015 Billy Storm/Sidda Lee Rain

Contact Author

Website: siddaleerain.com

Email: [email protected]

Email: [email protected]

FB: www.facebook.com/AuthorBillyStorm

Twitter: @SiddaLeeRain

This book may not be reproduced or used in parts or as a

whole without permission from the author with the

exception of quotes used for reviews.

This book is a complete work of fiction any resemblance

to people or events is purely coincidental. These

characters and story lines are works of the author’s

imagination and should be viewed as the fiction it is.

This book is to be viewed by persons of age 18+

It is an erotic romance and does include strong sexual

scenarios and strong language.

Author has taken artistic license in using products

and brands in this book. They are not associated with the

publication of this book outside of the Authors imagination.

Damn Women Publishing electronic publication September 2015

Damn Women Publishing print publication September 2015

“A girl like me isn’t here

living life.

Rather, life is living me.”

~ Billy Storm

Acknowledgements

To my main “mutha truckaaaah” and brain sharer Dorothy F. Shaw, I can’t even guess the hours we’ve spent sprinting and discussing writing but I’m thankful for them. And, the late night FaceTime conversations that lasted far too long.

Thank you, Jodie Bivins and Shannon Wrenn. The newest additions to my team of beta readers. Shannon, your comments have had me giggling like an idiot when I needed it the most. I adore you both.

Of course, Mizz Tina Rose I thank you as well for the numerous screenshots and endless convos we’ve shared. It’s nice to have a broad who thinks like me. #RideOrDieBitches

As always, thank you Jake Edwards for assisting me on every aspect of this damn journey. Somehow you make my ideas happen every time I say, “Soooo, I was thinking…”

Chapter One

**Skye**

There was a time I prayed for Fridays. Those were the days. Now? Yeah, not so much. My fantasy world is over, my dreams shot to fucking hell and back again. I’m a bonafide adult and that means there’s no more time for the foolish, absolute nonsense that I once lost myself in for hours. Seriously fucking hours. Time I’ll never get back. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? I’ll tell you exactly what I was thinking. I thought if only I was older, if only I had a job and a man. Fuck, that last one ended up being the biggest fucking joke of my life. A man. A fucking man. Well, now I’m older, I have a job—actually I have two and as for a man? I’ve had a helluva bit more than two. Not a one has left me satisfied for more than the time it takes to refill my eCig.

Men. Yes, I shuddered when I said the word. That species is like a fucking plague to me. My skin feels as if it could break out in blisters just from thinking of testosterone. Ain’t one of those motherfuckers that have left me with anything but a bad taste, empty bank account, and disappointment in my panties. Bitter? Fuck to the yeah I am. Disney lied. My whole childhood was a preamble for shit. Lie after lie twirling across the screen singing to birds and shit. Prince Charming? Bullshit. I bet that Prince was a premature ejaculator and had one of those small crooked dicks that made you go on your toes to attempt to avoid the pain from literally fucking you sideways. I’ll never trust a man with better hair than I have. Never. Ever.

As for a job—rather jobs? Yes, as in multiple. Ain’t that a bitch that employment has been my only experience in multiples? My goal of becoming a prima ballerina or a veterinarian—shut up I was young, stupid and loved my dog Poochie and the best dancer in my fifth grade ballet class.

Come on already….I’ve been waiting for this order of chili cheese fries for fifteen minutes already. I’m really getting sick of the dirty looks that the frat shmucks are giving me. I don’t make the food I serve it, big fucking difference here, people. I just know I’m getting a shitty tip already, hell, if I even get a tip. College douche bags come in and out of here all night. Half lit, horny and think that the fat girl would be an eager lay because she’s gotta be desperate right? Fuck them. Fuck every single one of them. Not the fucking they want either. I’m thirty-eight years old, the absolute last thing I need is another young punk who doesn’t know what to do with his dick. Glancing back at the Alpha Beta Dipshits I bet there’s at least three whiskeydicks in the group of five anyway.

Finally….it took twenty minutes to ladle some pre made chili onto some overcooked fries? Really?

“Smile, Skye….just smile and go,” I whisper to myself before heading towards their table. I set the three plates of fries down as fast as I can without dropping anything, grab the empty glasses and flee before the boys can do anything but shove far too hot chili cheese fries into their big mouths. Knowing I’m smirking when I hear one of them cursing after he piled the piping hot crap into his pie hole I quickly walk away without a second glance. I hurry back to the soda machine to refill their drinks before they start whining. “Shit! Was that a Coke or a diet?” I mumble to myself. Mumbling nothing new to me. “He’s getting a Coke.”

I haven’t always been this much of a hot mess….I’m tired, I’m so tired and honestly just….lost. This is nothing like what I had planned for my future. Big goals, ideas, and my future so mapped out that it was like the bitch was on rails.

Naive? Bet your ass I was. Although, I had no idea I was at the time. I blame my parents. After all, I was teenager, then, I was in my early twenties and daddy’s girl. To say I was spoiled was an understatement of epic proportions. I was invincible, forever young and too special to end up where I am. My sister was the same.

Well, dads die and mothers remarry. Mine happened to remarry a slime ball—complete opposite of my father. She sold my childhood home seven months to the day after my fathers heart attack. I was twenty-four and basically homeless and so was Rain. Yes, Donna, my mother hopped into Butch’s Peterbuilt and hit the highway. I haven’t even seen her in the last six years. Rain being three years my senior made the transition far easier than I. She’s only an hour away from me but it feels like so much more. I feel orphaned, I feel lonely and I wish I still had my family. God, I miss my father. There was no one like Michael Blake. No one.

Dropping off the drinks I was almost home free when I turn to walk away and one of the Alpha Beta Fuckwads grabs my wrist.

He looks at me in that creepy ass way men have. You know, from the tips of your shoes slowly—way too slowly up until they reach your face, kinda. Okay, this kid only made it to my tits—not the first time for that either. “Can we get the bill, hon and I’d like your number too.”

Fucking kill me… .please?

I instantly whip out their bill and place it on the table with a smile thanking them before I walk away. Noway am I going to look back. Not a chance in hell. Glancing at my watch, I’m sad to see I still have two hours of this shit. The later it gets the more crap I have to deal with. Mindlessly I wipe empty tables and start refilling salt and pepper shakers. Never said I wasn’t glamorous, did I? Thankfully the chili fries guys left without anymore shit and just as I expected a two dollar tip. Two dollars? Really? I only waited on them for two hours as they sat there loud as hell and scaring away other customers. “Two dollars!”

An hour later the diner is empty, my feet hurt and I’m hungry as hell. Grabbing myself a small order of fries and a root beer I decide to take a quick break. After all, I get off at midnight, then, I need to go to my next job until four. Yes, four in the goddamn morning. This shit ain’t for the weak.

Whipping out my smartphone I lose myself in status updates and hashtags. What? Sue me I enjoy the mindless shit online. I really do. What the hell did people do before social networking?

“Do you really think you should be eating those, sweetheart?” I look up to a pair of the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

Wait, what did he just say….

He’s a customer, he’s a customer, he’s customer, I chant in my head. “Can I help you, sir?” Sir Fuckhead went unsaid.

He pulls out the chair across from me and helps himself to my fries. Jesus, he dipped in my ketchup. Who does that? I double dip, asshole. I wish PMS was contagious. “Hello? What the hell, dude?”

He looks at me and smiles. Smiles. What in the fuck?

Shaking his head, “dude?”

I know I’m scowling, I know that’s a good way to get wrinkles but I’ll make up for it later. One thing I’m good at? Resting bitch face, it’s kinda a skill I have mastered. Hey, we all have our gifts. When he continues to sit there smirking at me it pisses me off. “Yeah, dude as in you, as in what do you think you’re doing, dude?” Because fuck him.

The smirk turns into a full-blown smile. Dudes got a lot of teeth in that mouth of his. “I’m helping you out—“

“Helping me out?” Shit, I hand’t meant to say that out loud.

He leans forward and grabs my soda and oh hell no! Yup, he drinks straight from my straw like he fucking knows me. In shock I’m not even sure what to say to that?

Cringing he says, “root beer? What are you twelve?”

What the fuck? I have no clue who this DUDE even is and he’s all up in my business. “I’m thirty-eight, thank you and if I want a root beer I’m gonna have a root beer.”

The stranger eyes me up the same way the stupid frat boy did but this time I pretend I don’t feel his eyes on me like they were roaming fingers. Whoa! I seriously need to get laid. Sure as shit not by this dumbshit though.

He whistles, “thirty-eight, huh? Shit, you’re a lot older than I thought.”

Well, fuck him. Older? A lot older? I really don’t think the word a lot needed to be thrown out so recklessly. “I’m not old.” Pushing the fries away from me because A: who could eat after that verbal bitchslap and B: who knows where his hands have been? No thank you on crab infested fries. Is that possible? Who knows but I don’t want to find out.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He says as he fills his mouth with more of MY fries and MY ketchup.

I clamp my mouth shut before I start spewing words that would end up with my dismissal and I need this job. I hate this job but I need it. Fingers snap in front of my face and suddenly words aren’t enough I want to junk-punch this guy.

“Hellooooo?”

I snap, “What?” I’m losing my patience with this guy. Glancing at my phone I’m pleased that at least I only have twenty minutes left before my shift ends.

“Got somewhere you gotta be, sweetheart?”

“As a matter of fact I’m about done with my shift.” Gritting my teeth I proceed to do my job whether I want to hurt him or not. “Can I get you anything before I leave, sir?” Rat poison, maybe?

“I think I’m good with the fries you bought me, sweetheart.”

Then, he winked. Yeah, winked like some creepy ass who looks at you like he’s going to kidnap you on the street. We all know the kind. The kind of crazy ass that has a broad locked in his basement. I seriously wonder how many of those kind of sickos we pass on the sidewalk everyday. Looky, looky, I’ve got one right in front of me….oh joy. Too bad for him I pack a mean right hook and fat people are harder to kidnap.

Squinting his eyes at my name badge I prepare myself for what’s coming.

“So Skyyyyyye, hot date with your cat after this? Marathon of Molly Ringwald movies, maybe? All while cuddling with Ben and Jerry?” He laughed. The asshole laughed. I get it, I do….single woman on her way to being one of those crazy cat ladies with no one to snuggle up with besides a pint of Cherry Garcia and corny movies starring another undesirable woman.

So, just for spite….I lied. Why? Because, fuck him that’s why. “I like dogs, action movies and I prefer to snuggle up with Mitch and Matt.” His face right now? That’s why I lied.

Slipping from the table without another word I punch out, say a quick hello to my relief Mandy. Hitting the bathroom before I leave I change from my uniform that reeks of a deep fryer and grease and get dressed for job numero dose. Darkening my makeup, I apply black eyeliner and another layer of mascara. Cursing as my lipstick breaks I see it as a crystal ball, this is gonna be a long night.

**Jaden**

Walking into the diner I see her. I’ve seen her numerous times before since I work across the street. Not that I’ve ever come into the diner before. Jesus, I work at a fucking gym the last place I need to be is some shithole greasy spoon. But today I couldn’t resist. I’ll admit the fries tasted awfully damn good but I bet Miss Skye tastes better. She’s definitely a live wire. I’m not exactly sure why I was an ass and yeah, I know I was an ass but I couldn’t get enough of that spark in her eyes. Honestly? I got hard as fuck when she looked at me like I was scum of the earth. Twisted? Maybe. A turn on? Fuck yes.

She sure couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Not that I minded watching her walk away. Dat ass. Since when does a thick girl get my attention? Hell if I know. Never happened to me before but there’s no mistaking it now—my cock is so hard that I could fuck straight through a brick wall without a second thought. Probably best Skye left, in this state I’d fuck her in two. Damn sassy mouth. Sassy, sexy mouth. Skye, even her name makes my dick twitch. Not often has a woman walked away from me and by often? I mean never. I’m use to getting what I want and I want to grab a hold of Skye’s big ass and I want to fuck her until she can’t walk, then, I want to slip my dick between her big tits and fuck her there until I come all over that same sassy, sexy mouth. Graphic much? Damn straight. I’m a man and we’re visual, right? I am visual and that’s what I pictured in my head as I sat across from her as she shared her fries with me. Shared? Like I gave her much choice.

Looking up when I hear the restroom door squeak I see her, Skye walking out the door. Gone was the bun at the back of her head, her hair hung halfway down her back in raven curls that were wavy from being wrapped in a tight bun for hours. Sweet mother of….I was drawn to her mouth before but now? Fuck now, all I can think of is those full red lips wrapped around my cock as I push so deep she gags. I love when they do that.

Where the hell is she going dressed like that? That uniform was a crying shame compared to Skye in snug jeans that hugged her gracious hips and round ass. And if I’m not mistaken….someone slipped into a pushup bra—not that she needed one. Nope, those tits were a lot more than a handful and I was looking forward to the challenge of holding them. Obviously she wasn’t going home to a cat dressed like that. I’m not about to ask her—she wouldn’t tell me shit and I wouldn’t blame her.

Watching her pop the trunk to her Ford Focus she simply tossed her backpack inside of it and slammed it shut. I already knew she drove the black Focus. I’ve seen her coming and going in the little thing on numerous occasions.

After she drove off I watched her make a left on Forrester, hmm….downtown. Guess, I didn’t figure her for a clubbing kinda girl. Surprise, surprise, huh?

Curiosity killed the cat or in this case? Curiosity got answers the sneaky ass way.

I snagged the waitress as she walked by swapping ketchup bottles. “Miss….” I read her name tag, “Mandy, I was suppose to meet up with Skye later but she was going to get me directions and I take it she forgot.” She looked down at my phone laying on the table. I grab it and answer what I know she’s thinking. “My cells dead or I’d call her.” I push the button on my phone shutting it off beneath the table. The last thing I need is the damn thing ringing right now.

After she looks her fill of me she finally answers. “Left on Forrester here and take a left onto fifth street, then, it’s about five or six blocks until you hit Oakly.”

“It’s on Oakly?” I ask.

“Take a right on Oakly, it’s right there, you can’t miss the pink neon lights even if ya tried.”

“Pink lights, got it.” Walking across the street to my gym, yeah, it’s my gym. I don’t only work there but I own the place. Only good thing I’ve ever done in my life, hell, the only thing I’ve ever completed. I absolutely love it too. My own boss, my own rules, it’s all on me. Then again? It’s all on me.

I know that I should steer clear of Skye, I really should. Definitely not a relationship type of guy and she looks like the relationship kinda chick. Most likely I’ll fuck her up, I’ll taint her with my own shit. I’ve got issues by the gallon, okay, okay, by the fifty gallon drum. But, I’m so selfish I’m not willing to walk away until I get what I want and for some reason I want her.

One evening I watched her walk across the street when she had parked in front of my gym. The diners parking lot was full, some classic car night thing they did once a month. Basically a bunch of old guys and their cruisers. I could care less about classic cars but I did enjoy the view of her shuffling across the street. Even after I told her she couldn’t park there. God, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Not even bothering to turn around and look at me she flipped me the bird and told me to it was public property. Then, the sassy shit told me to call the cops and have her towed if I didn’t believe her. She was right. I don’t own the street in front of my business but it still pissed me off.

I’ve thought of her everyday since. Like some fucking pervert I watch for her to arrive just before four o’clock and I see her leave around midnight. The gym closes at eleven but I’m always there for an extra hour or two every night. Like I said the gym is the one thing in my life that I’ve actually accomplished and I’m gonna make sure it stays going strong. At first I tried to blow off this crazy attraction I’ve got going on for her. After all, I own a goddamn gym and she’s definitely not the physically fit type of woman you would see on a personal trainers arm. Harsh? I don’t think so. I’d prefer to think it’s just honesty. Acting like she didn’t affect me was impossible. I don’t even have to look at the clock to know what time it is—no, my dick is like a fucking sundial and I’m hard before she even gets out of her car.

Solution? Well, I’ve come up with one that will work for both of us….we fuck. Simple solution for a simple problem, right? A few good bangs and I’ll be good. Nothing more, nothing less. All I’ve gotta do is get Skye on board and I don’t mean to brag….fuck it, take it as bragging if you want but I always get what I want and that includes women. Never had a problem getting who I want and that ain’t about to change. I’d probably be doing her a favor, hell, I know I would be. That ain’t ego….that’s fact.

Chapter Two

**Skye**

I watch as Eden hits the stage, she’s good—damn good. Her real name is Elizabeth and you know how they always say I’m only stripping to pay my way through college? Well, she really was. On her second year at the community college for something to do with finance, I can’t recall what exactly. Single mom of a set of four year old twin girls, Jessa and Jameson, she makes more money at the club in one night than she’d make a week at some minimum wage job. Fourteen years of ballet training and here she was working the pole for money. Even though she was stripping it was still beautiful. Her body was perfect but it was more of the way she moved, the way she flowed with the music.

Seeing so much beauty, so many perfect bodies? It didn’t escape me that I didn’t belong but that’s why I serve drinks. Nobody wants to see all this up on that stage in the bright lights. No, I stay in the shadows where I’m comfortable, I’m content and it’s where I belong. Don’t get me wrong I’m okay with where I am, I really am. Lets just say I’ve come to terms that I’ll never be a size four, I won’t even be a size fourteen. I was once, ya know? Twelve years old, sixth grade, I Skye Briar Blake was a size fourteen. Now, I reside in a hefty twenty jeans and an even bigger shirt. It is what it is and I am what I am.

I make good money here, decent tips—unlike the diner. Here, I use what I have just like every other woman in the club. Maybe I don’t shimmy on the brass pole but I use my feminine assets to get what I want….that paper. Money, rules the world right? I like to think females rule the world and money is merely a necessity to keep us there. Working three nights a week here I’m making enough in tips to keep me coming back. Not that it’s a bad place to work. Sounds funny, I know, but I like my job here a hundred times better than the diner. Cal runs a decent club and with plenty of security and clean girls. These women are my best friends and have been for the past three years that I’ve worked here.

Ahh….there’s Joe, one of the regulars. There’s no need to go take his drink order I already know what it’ll be, whiskey sour on the rocks, double and keep them coming until closing time. Then, Cal will pour him into a cab and send him home. Poor guy is just lonely. Every Friday night it’s the same routine. Sometimes he shows up on Saturday nights too but he sticks to club soda on those days. Everyone has their poison’s right?

Glancing down I check on my girls. Tugging my snug t-shirt down a couple inches more I pickup my tray with Joe’s drink and a dish of pretzels to drop off at his table. If it’s one thing Joe likes? It’s cleavage. That I have in spades.

**Jaden**

Pink lights, fucking pink lights alright! As in Pinkies the goddamn strip club. One of my clients at the gym, Nate Carson bartend’s here. I can’t even count how many times he’s invited me down here.

This is not what I expected at all. A strip club, I just can’t get over it. Skye was in there and what exactly was she doing in there? Different strokes for different folks but could she really be up on the pole? Her ass better not be near a fucking pole. I can feel myself getting more and more pissed as I sit in my car looking at the place. My knuckles are bright white as I grip the steering wheel for dear life. Rather like they were around some fuckers neck. Like the fucker that hired her to work in this come-bucket. Jesus, I gotta slow my breathing down, I don’t pant this hard after an hour of cardio. I see her Focus and I feel like exploding. She’s in there and I feel like I wanna puke. I can hear my pulse in my own head—that can’t be good. I know I have no say in where she works, god, we don’t even know each other but we’re about to get very well aquatinted.

Taking a few deep breaths I calm myself down the best I can. I pay the fifteen dollar cover charge and he stamps my hand. Looking down I see a pair of lips in red ink and the word delicious. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not at all, girls here are definitely delicious.” His overgrown ape face pisses me off and his stupid laugh only aggregates me more. I own a gym and I know a ‘roid freak when I see one. Peek-a-boo mother fucker, I see you.

Stepping inside the club it takes my eyes a minute to adjust. Outside was neon pink and blinding but in here I can hardly see where I’m going. All I can really make out is a bar decked out in red lights and black vinyl and the stage like a fucking beacon. No one’s dancing at the moment but there is somebody spraying the pole with some kind of spray bottle and toweling it dry. Jesus, really? I guess I should be happy at least that the damn things getting cleaned, right? The walls are a dark burgundy in what looks like velvet or something and all the tables, chairs and stools are black as night. It smells better than I thought it would. Truthfully, it smells similar to the gym except for the hint of beer in the air mixed with the sweat.

Looking around I don’t see Skye anywhere. Although, the place is kind of busy at the moment. “Need a seat, handsome?” Turning to the voice that was obviously trying too hard to sound sexy I see a tall, thin, stacked to the high heavens blonde in nothing but a pink bikini top and daisy dukes. She even has a pair of fuck me sky high pink heels on. I’m really getting sick of the color pink.

“I suppose.” Is all I answer with. Big blonde tits takes my hand and I cringe internally as she pulls me closer to the stage—not exactly where I want to be. Looking around I don’t see any sign of Skye. For a second I consider asking Bambi or Candy or whatever her name is where Skye is but I’d rather talk to her myself before she calls the ‘roid ape on me. We aren’t exactly best friends after all. She seats me off to the right of the stage and I sit-down like all the other pervs as if I’m waiting for a show. Loud music comes over the speakers and the stage lights dim changing to blue and purple.

“Sunny will be right with you to take your drink order, okay sexy?” I nod and try not to vomit in my mouth. I’ve only been in a strip club a couple times before this—not really my thing. Once in Vegas during my bachelor party and another time on a trip to Daytona for bike week. Even then I only went along with the guys—not by my choice. A brunette with mile long legs in a pair of spike heeled cowboy boots steps out on the stage and proceeds to shake her assets for all to see. Within seconds she’s on her knees crawling across the stage and my head is thumping with the music.

Looking around the room—at least what I could see in the near darkness I don’t see her. Maybe she’s in back? That thought makes me about to lose my shit. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”

Fuck! Sir? I know that voice. That’s the same sir that got my main vein pumping violently at the diner earlier. I turn and all I see is a set of tits that instantly make my mouth water. Holy mother of God! “Well, well, Skye, we meet again.”

She’s frozen just inches in front of me. Before she can turn away I standup and grab her by the wrist pulling her to the shadows behind the tables. I have no right and I know this but just like everything else to do with this woman I can’t help myself. Her face shows her surprise to see me and her eyes are wide as she tries to focus on mine in the darkness. “Asshole from the diner?” She looks around and I figure she’s looking for security. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

Asshole, huh? So be it. “I came to check out the scenery. Why else would I be at strip joint, sweetheart?” Stepping close enough to her that I know damn well she can feel my hard-on against her hip I set out to show her asshole. “How much for a hand job? That brunette up there with the killer bod has me hard as iron right now.” Letting my eyes roam over her I go in for the kill. “I guess you’ll do to handle the job.” Damn! Wrong thing to say, I guess. She pulled her arm from my grasp, then, took her empty tray and hit me in the back of the head with it with both both hands. “What the fuck?” Lucky the wall was there because she hit me so fast I didn’t have time to catch myself.

“Sunny, what the—“

She interrupted ape number two. How many of these fuckers were there here?

“I’m fine, Charlie, I’m fine.” Yeah, she was. Woman was fast and I ain’t gonna lie she packs a punch. As I toss my hands up in mock surrender ape number two walks away satisfied with her words.

After I watch him leave I look up and straight into those pale green eyes. Their not just green eyes, no, there’s flecks of gold mixed in there. Green/gold what the hell ever are aimed at me and they aren’t happy. Jutting her chin out with one hand on her hip and the other holding her tray at her side I know I’m about to get it and I’ve never been more turned on in my entire thirty-two years.

“I don’t do hand jobs for money, asshole. And that brunette up there with the killer bod wouldn’t want a fucking thing to do with you she has a girlfriend, thank you very much. Now, I suggest you sit your ass down and shut the hell up before I hand you over to the bouncers to deal with. Now, would you like a drink or not, you dumbshit?”

Well then, she made herself clear, didn’t she? I had no clue what to say. I didn’t want to leave without her and I’m not that stupid that I figured she’d go with me peacefully. “Beer, whatever’s on tap.” With a nod she walked away. I watched her like a fucking creep too. Damn she was a wild thing. Stopping at a few more tables before making her way to the bar. Sitting back down in my chair I kept my eyes glued to her. To her ass at least. Finding myself jealous of the view the bartender had to be getting as she leaned over the bar. I bet her tits were practically coming out of her top. Why the hell am I so damn drawn to this chick? There was eye candy all over this place. Shit, a topless one on stage at this very minute but I was staring at the chubster in tight jeans, a low cut top and rocking a pair of….Chucks? Every other woman in the club had heels on but Skye wore a pair of Converse tennis shoes. Chuckling I shake my head. “Seriously? That’s who has you in knots?” I whisper to myself.

A tall man with salt and pepper hair pulls out the chair across from me, folds his arms on the table and motions for me to come closer. I give. “Sunny says you’re alright but I gotta tell yous I don’t like the way you’re lookin’ at my girl—“

“Your girl? Sunny?” Is this guy serious?

“Did I not speak english?” Not exactly, I thought. “Lemme give you a rundown, son. Sit back, keep your eyes open and your hands to yourself. If I see you with your hands off the table yous better be slipping some money into a g-string, kapish?” He was completely serious. Just so he shuts-up I nod. “Good, very good.” Mr. Al Pacino knocks his knuckles on the table before rising. “One more thing.”

“What would that be?”

He points to the stage where now the big boobed blonde from earlier hung upside down from the brass pole. “Show’s up there—not on Sunny’s ass just so yous know.”

Jesus, she’s got muscle and now a fucking mob boss on her side? What next? And fuck him for thinking he can tell me where I can’t look. “What’d Cal want?”

“Hello to you too, Skye.”